Never Again
by GenvieveWoolf
Summary: This was what I got for trying to pull a fast one on Sonny. Short one-shot about a funny incident between C and Sonny.


_I requested that A Bronx Tale be added to the movies section. Now it has, and I am delighted to submit one of the first, if not THE first, Bronx tales on . Just a quickie one-shot. Hope you enjoy it.  
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**Never Again**

"Talk fast, kid."

I knew I was in trouble. I knew I had to obey, to talk fast. But I knew if I opened my mouth before I thought my story through, I'd be dead.

"I'm waiting," Sonny prompted.

"W-well…" I said, to buy time, but it didn't do any good. "I… I was just hangin' here waiting for you like you said," I began, a story finally beginning to form. I wasn't sure it would hold up in the long run, but it might buy me some time.

"Yeah," Sonny said, obviously not impressed.

I had my back to his liquor cabinet, an incriminating bottle of chardonnay in my hot hands. How did Crazy Mario and the others get me into these things?

"S-so I got this idea, see," I went on, feeling sweat start to trickle down my back. "I heard your birthday was coming up…" That was the first concrete thing I'd said, and it made me a little calmer. "…And I couldn't think of a thing to get you, since you can get pretty much whatever you want for yourself…"

Sonny folded his arms, listening. He still didn't look impressed, but he wasn't interrupting, so I continued.

"So then I remembered you like some fine wines, and I came in here to see what you already had, so's I wouldn't get the same thing and I could see the type of stuff you like…"

The corner of Sonny's mouth twitched, and I couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

"And then I thought I could call the liquor store and see if they could recommend a good vintage of this…" I looked hard at the bottle in my hands, praying my act was holding up. "… Chardonnay stuff. But I was afraid I'd forget how to say it, so I was going to take the bottle to the phone with me to make the call. And that's when you came through the doorway."

"That's it?"

I searched Sonny's face, but I couldn't tell if he believed me or not. I nodded to him and waited. Half of me thought I'd pulled it off, and half of me was sure I was about to die.

"Well," Sonny said, unfolding his arms and holding up one hand as if to shove the whole matter aside with three fingers, "it's a shame it won't be a surprise now. But I did need an explanation. You understand."

"Sure," I said, sweating more from the relief. I concentrated hard on getting the bottle safely back into the case. My hands shook a little.

"I can still look forward to seeing what kind you pick out," Sonny went on. "I'll give you the name of my best supplier. I'm sure he'll be able to recommend something to you that I'll like."

"Yeah," I agreed immediately. I was still in shock. I couldn't believe he'd bought my story.

"Now come on," Sonny said, "the boys are waiting."

I followed him out, planning the angry speech I would give Mario and the guys the next time I saw them. No way was I ever going to try to steal so much as a button from Sonny's house again.

I was so giddy from my near-death experience that even my mother noticed that night and said I was acting weird, but I laughed it off. I was just glad to be alive.

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Three days later, when I'd almost forgotten the incident, I got a message from some fancy shop I'd never been to. It was way on the other side of the city. I opened it up and read the following message:

_Dear Mr. C,_

_I heard from my wonderful customer Sonny LoSpecchio that you would like to purchase a vintage for his birthday next week. You may call for our complete list, or I can choose something for you that I know will be to his liking._

_Our standard wines range from fifty to ninety dollars per bottle, and our better-aged, more classy vintages run seventy-five to one hundred-fifty dollars. I am sure Sonny will be expecting something from the latter list. I would be happy to help you make your selection._

_Just call the number below._

_Yours, S. DeLuca and Sons inc._

I stared at the paper in my hands. It seemed to get blurry and clear again, like a photographer adjusting his camera lens. I remembered the liquor cabinet back in Sonny's house. I remembered watching Sonny watch me, and wondering if I had fooled him. I remembered thinking I had.

Now I knew. There was no way in hell. I hadn't fooled him for a moment, and now he was getting his revenge. There was no escape. No way to back out without losing face with everybody forever. Somehow, in the next week, I had to break my back to raise about a hundred dollars.

Sonny knew that was how it would go down, and he knew I'd remember it longer than getting slapped around. This was worse. This was what I got for lying.

This was what I got for thinking I could pull a fast one on Sonny.

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_Hope you liked it; it was fun to write. :) Please leave a review and let me know if you'd like to see more Bronx tales._


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